


the black and white

by ethyreans



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream’s POV, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU, M/M, Memory Loss, don't need to watch the movie to understand, no beta we die like british guys in the dsmp lore, well loss is kind of, will update tags as i write more btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethyreans/pseuds/ethyreans
Summary: “Do I know you from somewhere?”Dream blinks.“Sorry, I know that’s kind of weird, and I’m not usually this forward with new people, but you look familiar, like I swear I’ve seen you before.”or the one in which george erases dream from his mind and dream follows.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song of the same name by the band camino
> 
> dedicated to [alyssa](https://twitter.com/sapnapvidz) for harrassing me while writing this and [jay](https://twitter.com/rvenboy) for doing the same and helping me proofread this right before posting u guys are cool i guess

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

\--

It’s Valentine’s Day. It’s Valentine’s Day and Dream’s on a train heading the exact opposite direction from work--work which he was already scheduled to be 15 minutes late to had he done the responsible thing and actually showed up.

He couldn’t even explain to anyone why he was on this train right now. It was like some voice had just walked right into his brain and made its home between the ridges and it had caught him at a time when he was just desperate and frustrated enough to do anything it asked.

Sometimes Dream felt like he was almost having a prolonged out-of-body experience, just watching himself do things, too bored to give even a single damn about the consequences that were at best maybe a few hours behind him. But it had never been this bad. This morning it had felt like he had gotten hit by a truck that had thrown him straight into a construction site and now this thought that he had to run away was drilling nonstop into his head.

So it’s Valentine’s Day and he’s skipping work and he’s at this abandoned beach that even the residents of suburban Orlando don’t have a proper name for, but obviously someone must have leaked a memo because there’s another guy there, lying in the sand and overall looking quite dead to the rest of the world, as Dream makes his way down the steps.

On second thought, he might actually be dead, because he doesn’t make any moves or any gesture that shows he’s aware of another person being in his vicinity now, even as Dream breaks a stick out of frustration from his writer’s block. He figured that, if nothing else, surely skipping out on work would allow him to get something down onto a page, but the sand is cold and the sea is lukewarm and the sky is the kind of overcast that seems to match his mood far too well. He wants to write but all the elements can seem to do is leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

It’s too distracting, it’s all too distracting, so he gives up and just _throws_ himself at the ground. If it doesn’t swallow him up, maybe he’ll somehow find the secret the other guy seems to be having a blast with or at least fall asleep until nature decides to stop trying to fight him for the title of most depressed today.

It’s just his luck that it starts to rain then.

His first instinct is to squint as if he’s somehow going to intimidate the sky into changing its mind and backtrack before the first few drops have finished hitting the ground, but he’s not that lucky. He’s always been quite average when it comes to things like these, so he sighs and places his hands on his thighs and forces himself to get up.

He’s only just sat down in a booth at the nearest diner, trying to make his mind focus on the menu in front of him instead of angrily fixating on the way his wet clothes clings to the pseudoleather of the seats, when he realizes the guy from the beach has followed him. Well, followed might not be the most accurate word. It’s almost as if this guy teleported or his hoodie had some secret magic rain repellent powers, because Dream swears there’s not a single drop on him to the point he almost forgets about the menu in front of him trying so hard to find one.

The diner’s surprisingly empty considering it’s midday, raining, and a holiday though Dream supposes the latter’s probably driven people to develop standards and actually treat themselves and their significant others to some place fancier at this time. He pulls out his journal and fingers the cover. The lack of people gives him an excuse but he doesn’t want to be caught staring, so he frowns as he writes his thoughts down because the change of scenery didn’t inspire any new prose to jump out from the corridors in his head. _Why is this guy wearing sunglasses indoors?_ His fingers twitch and he thinks of the charcoal in his pocket, thinks of how it’s probably soaked and how the smudges would look on the creamy paper. He closes the book.

He watches the guy pull out a flask and pour some liquid Dream can’t fully see into his coffee, and his chest aches with the urge to leave again.

Of course, it’s his luck that this guy’s at the train station now. Of course, it’s his luck that there’s no one else at the train station now.

They’re waiting for the same one and Dream’s so desperate to avoid eye contact that he takes a step forward even though he’s already facing the other way, but it’s almost as if something pulls at him and he has to look to his right to see if this guy cares and he does. He does, or at least, he’s feeling polite enough today, because he looks at Dream and waves and maybe Dream’s delusional or desperate or something was in the coffee he just drank because he swears he sees the faintest outline of a smile start to take shape on the other guy’s face. It takes all of Dream’s willpower to wave back like a normal person then turn around before he decides to do something decidedly less normal like try to actually _speak_ to this stranger.

Of course, the stranger in question takes a step back like Dream had earlier and waves again.

Thankfully, just as Dream’s about to resign to whatever deity’s decided to take prey on him today, the train pulls up and he’s able to sit down before his legs start to wobble as he starts to daydream of what a proper smile would look like on the other guy’s face.

\--

Dream blinks.

“Sorry, I know that’s kind of weird, and I’m not usually this forward with new people, but you look familiar, like I _swear_ I’ve seen you before.”

  
His mouth goes dry and he feels his face go blank. _Say something, just say something, he’s going to think you’re a freak if you don’t say something_ , but his throat refuses to open up. It seems like his luck is starting to turn up though, because this guy keeps going, switching between wringing his hands and gesturing frantically like he’s swatting invisible flies out of their small bubble on this corner of the train.

“Wait-- Do you spend a lot of time at the library-- you know the one near the Starbucks near the gas station and all that? I used to teach basic coding there, so maybe that’s it.”

Dream feels an ache start to make its way behind his left eye and he silently wills it not to start twitching and make him look like a maniac in front of what very well may be the most attractive guy he’s seen in like a _year_ at least.

Before he can finally form some sort of response, the guy cuts in _again_. “Sorry, this is probably a lot, and I haven’t even introduced myself yet.” He sticks his hand out in a manner that’s almost cartoonish and it’s so much that Dream can’t do anything but just stare at it for a second. “I’m George by the way.”

_This is your cue to shake his hand, idiot. Oh, god, he probably thinks you’re an asocial, touch-starved freak because you can’t stop staring. I didn’t even know silence could stretch on for this long._

He brings his hand up with such enthusiasm he swears George’s eyes widen for a split second. He doesn’t say anything though, which is nice, but Dream can’t focus on that right now because whatever demon taking his body for a joy ride couldn’t extend the same pity to his mouth. “Clay.”

It’s only one word and Dream knows it’s ridiculous to panic over his fucking _name_ , but he’s made a point over the last five years to keep as many boundaries between him and the outside world as possible. But something about this g-- _George_ makes his heart feel like it’s an old wheel creaking after being kept out of use and out of sight for so long. It’s like he’s a little kid again and he’s just gotten a new pet and he wants to show it off to everyone that will give him even a second of their time, and George is the poor, unsuspecting first victim that had just been walking by, completely indifferent to the storm that was about to hit him.

“Clay,” he repeats, like he’s getting used to how it feels in his mouth. Dream tries not to think about the implications of that and he swallows hard as he ignores the sounds of the floodgates in the back of his mind. “That’s… interesting. I don’t know, you have the face for it, but you don’t really _seem_ like a Clay.” Dream tries not to think about how George is kind of half-smirking but his tone makes it seem like he’s sharing an inside joke and he feels like his face is going red with the effort not to think about how it feels like there’s some sort of magic infused into this joke and it feels like Dream’s so, so, so special for being able to experience it up close and personal this way.

He’s still holding onto Dream’s hand. They’re not moving anymore. Dream can’t tell if the world’s stopped or if it was just the train but the blood roaring in his ears sounds an awful lot like a dam breaking now. His mouth stays dry though.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You just seem kind of surreal, I don’t know.”

“Surreal?”

“Yeah, like otherworldly. Like my mind made you up, almost.”

Dream thinks for a second. _Fuck it._

“I mean, most of my friends call me Dream.” He smirks a bit at this and hopes that it’s enough to seem like he’s matching George’s energy. “Is that surreal enough for you?”

At this, George makes his own over-exaggerated thinking face. “Mm, not quite, but you’re getting there at least.” He lightly punches Dream’s shoulder. Then, he points up toward the intercom speakers letting them know the next stop is approaching. “Well, that’s me, but, hopefully, I’ll see you around at the _library_ or something soon, since you never bothered to actually tell me.” He rolls his eyes playfully here, signaling that he doesn’t actually expect anything from Dream. Dream still wants to give it to him though.

“Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“I have the same stop. What are you doing after this?”

“ _Dream_ ,” he says with a shove. “Are you coming onto me?”

“Depends,” Dream mutters back. “Is it working?”

George smirks. “I don’t know, you tell me.” He shifts in his seat in front of Dream a bit, probably uncomfortable from having been kneeled and turned around for so long. “But, if you _must_ know, I don’t have any plans after this, I was just going to head home and relax for a bit, nothing too concrete.”

Dream sighs internally. He worries his lip for a second, but he’s already made up his mind on what to say next, so there’s no point in delaying the inevitable. “How are you getting home?”

George squints. “Are you asking me out or something?”

Dream chuckles and resists the urge to wipe his palms on his jeans right now. He doesn’t want George to see that he’s even a little bit nervous, no matter how true it really is. “Or something, yeah. Let’s go with that. So?”

“I left my scooter back near the diner, so I was just going to walk to be honest.”

_Scooter. Jeez, it’s like he’s not even real._ Dream pushes that out of his mind and refocuses on the topic at hand. “So…. Can I drive you? Or _something_ ,” he teases.

“Jeez, stalker much? I’m just kidding, you should see the look on your face, holy shit. Yeah, I think I’d like that.” He gets up and makes a half ditch gesture to dust off his pants. “This is us, I guess.” He offers Dream his hand again, this time with a smile that’s definitely more timid in nature but still bright enough to drown out the storm outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/trustfcll) or [tumblr](https://killthedirectors.tumblr.com) if that's more your style
> 
> the song i listened to/hyperfixated on while writing this was hush hush by the band camino btw lol
> 
> bonus shoutout to certain people on 404blr for making me actually feel like writing again u are all very cool and i appreciate u so much


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I like archery,” George chimes in. “Used to go to a camp for it when I was younger, back in England.”
> 
> “Oh, really,” Dream drawls. “How did I know that?”
> 
> “I don’t know, maybe I’m very predictable,” George answers. “Or maybe you’re just magic.”
> 
> Dream looks at George again. This time, George beats him to the punch. All the air leaves Dream’s lungs and he freezes. “Were you even paying attention?” Hook, line, and sinker.
> 
> “Of course I was, silly. I like the sound of your voice too much not to.” Dream gets caught in his own trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for lying about taking two weeks
> 
> also i posted this chapter in a different format and went back and edited the last one a bit bc of my usage of italics so hopefully you can actually understand it a bit now lol
> 
> if u got the vague trc reference i added there after the edit pretend i gave u a gold star

“Come here often?”

“Really? That’s actually the best you could come with,” George says to him, clearly unimpressed by the way he’s wrinkled his brow.

“Yes, only the best for you.”

“Well, in that case, you definitely need more practice.” George giggles after he says it, and Dream knows he was just insulted but he can’t help but smile at that.

Still, he continues to build up and act fake offended. “What?” He scoffs. “Are you too good for the pick up line that I spent  _ hours _ thinking of?” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at George. It might be a game, but Dream loves to turn anything he can into a challenge when given the opportunity.

Now it’s George’s turn to scoff. “Oh, please. You probably googled them and settled for the worst one you could find.” He rolls his eyes. “But since I’m so nice, I’ll indulge you.” He sticks his hand out and Dream stares at it. “I’m George. I’d say nice to meet you, but it’s been a month already, hasn’t it?”

Dream finally lifts his hand up. His mouth goes dry at the first contact. He looks up at the ceiling with the guise of using it to remember something just out of reach and prays silently to anyone who’s listening that George doesn’t know enough about psychology to realize it’s just a poor excuse for avoiding eye contact. “Wait, has it really been a full month already?” He shakes his head. “Not that it matters. I mean, we haven’t really  talked before, so I wouldn’t really say we’ve met before.” He realizes he’s been holding George’s hand the entire time he’s talking and he quickly withdraws, but it’s too late. Despite the fact that Dream’s hands are larger, George’s fingertips have burned him, left him feeling branded. Funnily enough, it doesn’t hurt at all.

George’s eyes crinkle, and somehow, Dream can tell he’s holding back laughter as he speaks. “Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for lost time then, won’t we?”

Dream finds himself praying again, this time that he’s not blushing or that George can’t see it if he is. “Do you really mean that?”

“Depends,” George murmurs. “Do you want me to?”

\--

“You never answered my question, Dream.”

Dream keeps his eyes on the road, because he’s a good driver and he cares what George thinks of him and he definitely does  _ not _ think about how George says his name like a mantra. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He makes his voice dry on purpose. Hopefully, George isn’t one of those people who can see right through someone right after meeting them. “You do ask a lot of questions, you know.”

“Oh, excuse me for actually putting in the effort to get to know you properly,” George grumbles. He shifts around in his seat, and Dream fears he might’ve overstepped. This is exactly why he doesn’t bother reaching out to new people. He silently curses at himself and wishes once again that he knew how to properly navigate boundaries.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.” He’s grateful for the dark masking his blush, even if it means he can’t see George as well as he’d like to. “I like that you care so much. It’s… sweet.” 

George doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Dream’s heart skips a beat. He’d been aiming to reassure George, and he  meant what he said, but it came out sounding like some sort of confession. Dream wonders if he’ll ever be able to speak to the other man without feeling like he’s treading some sort of minefield. Dream wishes they were at a red light so he could look at George’s face and try to make some guess at what he’s thinking. Unfortunately, he never seems to be able to get what he wants.

George rolls his eyes. “It’s like I can hear you thinking, you know. God, it must sound like a jackhammer in your skull. Make a right in two blocks, by the way. Anyway, don’t call me sweet. If I was sweet, I wouldn’t have gotten so defensive over a stupid joke and made you feel guilty.” He makes a gesture to grab at Dream’s right hand, and Dream caves. He starts talking again while he plays with Dream’s fingers, and something in Dream’s heart aches again. “Look, truth be told, I think you’re really nice, and I don’t know how to handle that. I  like nice, but it’s not something I’m used to.” He laughs like there’s no punchline. “I’m not very good with new people, or with people in general, if I’m honest, but I feel really drawn to you, like I want to tell you everything, and that kind of terrifies me.” He lets go of Dream’s hand and clears his throat. “You can park here if you want.”

Dream listens like he’s a robot, like he’s underwater, like he’s drowning and has no choice but to succumb.

“Do you want to come in? I can’t promise that I’ll be any less weird, but I can make you a drink for your trouble.”

Dream short circuits. “I’m not sure that would be--I mean--”

George laughs, a little less forced now. “Dude, you can say no, it’s fine. I swear I won’t bite.”

“Hey! I never said I wouldn’t be into that.”

George looks at Dream like he doubts this very much. 

“Okay, maybe not right away, but I’m serious about coming in.” He turns the car off and steps out, then runs to the other side to open George’s door before he can say anything to protest it.

“What did I just say about nice guys?” George says as he lets Dream grab his hand to help him out anyway.

Dream grins cheekily. “Oh, I don’t know, something about how you just couldn’t stand to wait any longer for a knight in shining armor to come and finally sweep you off your feet.” 

“You are so annoying.”

“Only for you,” Dream says and, impossibly, his grin widens as George mirrors it.

  
  


“Wait, so you’ve never been to the frozen pond near here?”

“Nope.” Dream knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s actually glad he hasn’t since it means he gets to see George get all riled up like this. He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he can’t help but think that it’s very cute. “I gather I’m missing out?”

“Missing out doesn’t even begin to cover it, what the hell. No, come put your coat on again, we’re going out now.” George starts to pull on Dream’s hand to get him to stand up. At Dream’s protests, he insists, “Look, you and I both know this is like a once in a lifetime experience in Orlando. Do you really wanna say you missed out on it just so you could sit here on my couch and stare at my pretty face while I pretend not to notice for your sake?” He giggles, then keeps going before Dream can say anything. “I’m just kidding, you should see your face.” He drops his voice to a whisper like he's about to share a secret, even though there’s no one else in the apartment. “You’re very expressive, Dream.”

Dream starts to profess his disagreement with this, but George interrupts him  again .  “Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He rolls his eyes and tugs at Dream’s arm again. “But I am serious about not letting you live it down regardless of how sweet I may or may not think it is of you to hang out with me like this.”

Dream groans and curses whatever cell in his brain is responsible for him being so weak right now. He could’ve spent the rest of the night on George’s surprisingly cozy couch, getting closer to him with every hour and growing warmer by the minute, but he’s actively choosing to go back into the freezing cold outside just to see him smile as brightly as he did earlier again. “Ugh, fine. How far away is it?”

“Only a ten minute walk, maybe eight if we take a shortcut. Come on, I swear you won’t regret it.” Well, at least the glee in George’s voice has injected enough warmth into Dream’s bones that maybe, just maybe, he won’t freeze to death for a few more minutes than he would have otherwise.

  
  


“What was the question you kept trying to bring up earlier? You know, back in the car, right before….” He trails off, letting the wind fill in the blanks for him in fear of accidentally upsetting George again. They’re both tipsy now, but he’s still hyper-aware of how fragile this thing between them still is. The writer in his mind can’t help but look at the flurries in front of them and think of them as being in some sort of snowglobe.  _ Trapped _ .

“Oh! Yeah, the library. Did you ever work there or visit a lot, I don’t know which would apply. I’m still trying to get a read on you.” Dream’s heart stops and starts again when George takes his hand. Like he knows how nervous he is. Like he’s trying to comfort him. Like he doesn’t care about what Dream says as long as they’re here together. Like he’s just grateful for his presence. It feels warmer than his apartment and the ache grows into a wound.

“Yeah, I volunteered at the front desk for a while.” Dream frowns as he tries to remember the exact details, but it’s like he’s at the edge of a mental black hole, like someone punched through a page and he can’t see anything. “I think I was about to make it a permanent thing too. I can’t really remember why I changed my mind.”

George squeezes Dream’s hand and picks up where he left off. “I’m sure you would’ve made a very sexy librarian if that's any consolation. I quit teaching my coding class there a few weeks ago. Funnily enough, I can’t remember why either. I think I just felt tired of it. Or empty, I don’t know.” His face seems to go blank for a minute. “Not that it really matters. You were almost a librarian, I’m sure you’re very smart. Tell me something you think I wouldn’t already know.”

Dream purses his lips as he racks his mind for ideas. “I guess I know a lot about constellations.”

George’s face lights up and Dream feels like he hit a jackpot without even trying. “Okay, come lie with me here then and tell me all about them.” He pulls Dream out onto the ice and stumbles almost immediately, but Dream doesn’t care, it’s so endearing. Everything about George makes his heart swell to the point he doesn’t even think about how they’d both drown if the ice underneath them cracked right now. 

Dream makes an effort to stumble too in the off chance George might be upset at his own blunder, but he slips and falls completely. He can’t even bring himself to be upset about the pain and cold starting to seep through his clothes because George falls right next to him after refusing to let go of his hand. “Ow,” he mutters like he didn’t practically choose to do this to himself. Dream just grins and doesn’t say a thing about it.

Dream points a little to their right with the hand that isn’t holding George’s. “That’s Canis Major. It’s supposed to be a dog, but it looks more like a stick bug, I know. You can tell where it is because it has Sirius--that’s the one really bright star by the way--right in the middle of it.” 

He turns his head to look at George’s reaction before moving onto the next cluster he recognizes. He stretches his hand and points out further. “Over there, all the way to the right is Gemini, the twins.”

“My sister’s a Gemini,” George offers, and Dream squeezes his hand in acknowledgment.

“Gemini’s kind of shaped like a ‘U’ or a stretched-out horseshoe, so I don’t really know where the ancient Greeks or whatever got twins from. Anyway, here a little bit to the left is Orion, the hunter. He was killed by this scorpion, and I guess Artemis felt bad so she turned him into this constellation as an apology. The scorpion ended up becoming its own constellation--Scorpius-- later on though, so I’m not sure Orion appreciated it too much. His belt’s the part most people can point out, but if you look closely, you can kind of make out his bow.”

“I like archery,” George chimes in. “Used to go to a camp for it when I was younger, back in England.”

“Oh, really,” Dream drawls. “How did I know that?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m very predictable,” George answers. “Or maybe you’re just magic.”

Dream looks at George again. This time, George beats him to the punch. All the air leaves Dream’s lungs and he freezes. “Were you even paying attention?” Hook, line, and sinker.

“Of course I was, silly. I like the sound of your voice too much not to.” Dream gets caught in his own trap.

George lets go of Dream’s hand and Dream feels the wind start to pick up, starts to freeze even quicker as he feels it start to bite at his skin through gloves and all. George doesn’t notice this at all, too busy fixated on pushing a strand of Dream’s hair out of his face. His hand settles on Dream’s face, barely an inch away from frozen glass. “Your face is so warm, Dream. Are you blushing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Dream feels his heart thaw and start to pick up, a bomb only George can disarm at this point. “I’m colorblind.” The snowglobe cracks.

“So what I’m hearing is that I shouldn’t ask you to look at the sunrise with me later?”

“You can, but I’m being honest when I say I’d much rather be looking at your face.” George moves his hand to the back of Dream’s neck, plays with the short, wispy hairs there.

“Oh, shut up now.” Dream leans in like he’s recreating a scene from a movie he can’t remember. He stops, barely an inch away, and looks into George’s eyes. Before he can bring himself to ask if this is okay, George crashes into him. It feels like a lightning strike, the way it’s so messy and it should probably feel imperfect but all Dream can think about is how familiar it feels, how much it feels like this is where he’s meant to be--like he could die right now and he wouldn’t even notice. He sinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song i fixated on while writing and proofreading this chapter:  
> valentine -- coin
> 
> if you recognize the one or two lines i kind of stole from the movie, i think you are very cool and also definitely shouldn't report me for plagiarism /hj
> 
> there'll probably be two more chapters after this with the next one coming sometime in the next week or two depending on when i feel motivated again
> 
> thank you for reading this btw i rly appreciate it


End file.
